December 2009

December 29, 2009

Of all the movies at holiday time, Up in the Air, seems poised for the most lofty awards as well as commercial success. A luncheon at 21 was planned for the movie prior to the announcement of its Golden Globes nominations. Before, we were talking about an exceptionally sophisticated indie film with a big star, George Clooney, in the lead. Now we are looking at this wunder-film that hits the Zeitgeist just so, landing on every top ten list, with major Oscar potential, and yet, the celebration at 21 could not have been more grounded.

As it happened two years ago when director Jason Reitman had a little film called Juno, a luncheon at 21 featured their famous hamburger. Juno played winningly by Ellen Page had a hamburger phone and plastic versions were doled out for a winning ticket. Sigourney Weavergot one for her daughter Charlotte. That kvell fest proclaimed a father (producer Ivan)/ son (writer/director/producer Jason) collaboration made in heaven. With Up in the Air, the menu ratcheted up. Munching on filet mignon, sat several fathers with their spawn-so labeled by one Jenny Lumet whose father Sidney was also there-as was Arne Glimcher and son Marc, newly the father of a four-day-old son Alexander. Ah, the joys of family!

Father Ivan made a proud speech ending with, “and he's one hell of a writer.” Son Jason returned, and my favorite card on the credits is the one that reads, “Produced by Ivan Reitman. “ And so it went.

Among Jason Reitman's abundant talents is his attention to casting, and, aside from the brilliance of George Clooney, everybody's charming leading man, in Up in the Air, the women excel: Vera Farmiga, for example, proclaimed the least famous working actress some years ago in a New York Times Magazine piece just prior to her performance in The Departed. As Clooney's lover, she's smart, sassy, and sexy, a woman in control. Reitman spotted her work and wanted her for the part.

As to young Anna Kendrick, the director said he wrote the part for her. “Of course he didn't tell me that at the audition,” Anna said. Her role as a young protégé, a sidekick in the sloppy business of efficiently laying workers off, is sure to win her a Best Supporting Actress nomination. She is so pert and snappily efficient, she reminded me of Reese Witherspoon in Election. I get a lot of that, she said, and when I met Reese Witherspoon I told her, to wit Witherspoon replied, “You must hate that, being compared to me.” “Are you kidding,” said Kendrick, “I love that.”

December 24, 2009

If The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus is the new Wizard of Oz, as one fan enthused at the Closing Night screening at this year's Hampton's International Film Festival in October, then filmmaker Terry Gilliam is indeed the man behind the curtain.

“To make a film,” he said looking wizard-like in a loosely fit colorful coat at the recent Crosby Street Hotel premiere, to a crowd that included Patti Smith and Michael Stipe, “a magic mirror comes in handy--in case of tragedy.”

Of course “Parnassus,” which opens on Christmas day, will be haunted as Heath Ledger's last movie. Through the suspension of disbelief audiences can believe, that passing the prop's threshold, the doomed actor morphs into Johnny Depp dancing with a frump who loves shoes, Jude Law on outsized stilts, and Colin Farrell ferrying the ethereal, leggy Valentina (Lily Cole) in a gondola.

“This film is death and love,” said Gilliam noting the bittersweet: out of an unpredictable untoward event comes the love of the three actors who stepped in. Some fans cannot think of the film in any other way.

Gilliam's vision is indeed amazing, taking the dreamy psychedelic phantasmagoria of his earlier classics, Brazil and Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, to a new level in modern day London juxtaposed with the antique carnival world of Doctor Parnassus (Christopher Plummer), in a father-daughter story, and a Faustian bargain with Mr. Nick (Tom Waits).

The celebration had its own devil's pact, and a tale of father and daughters, featuring a special customized cake (www.BCakeNY.com) commissioned by his daughter Holly. Daughter Amy is one of the film's producers. And for a touch of real magic Gilliam told me with a nod to “Fear and Loathing,” he found out after his writing this script (with Charles McKeown), the late author Hunter S. Thompson had lived on Parnassus Street in San Francisco

December 21, 2009

At 94, the irrepressible Eli Wallach tells a good story. Of the film clips shown in the “Tennessee Williams on Screen and Stage” evening at the Times Center, part of the Museum of the Moving Image Series, the one of Baby Doll was the most provocative. A young sly Eli Wallach seduces a naive Carroll Baker. As Eli tells it, the Catholic Church banned the film saying anyone who sees it may be excommunicated, and it was sold out for the first 3 weeks. Just before, his wife Ann Jackson, sounding a bit like a Tennessee heroine, had taken the podium to tell her story of first meeting Tennessee, but then forgetting: “Sorry, we are unprepared.”

In fact, this special night was to honor the iconic playwright, newly inducted into the Poet's Corner and feted throughout this his centennial year. With anecdotes galore, like Eli telling Rose Tattoo ingénue Maureen Stapleton's bon mot when she first met Tennessee: “he looked more like an Ohio,” this team was more than prepared.

Clips from a new movie, The Loss of a Teardrop Diamond, to
open on December 30, with a screenplay by Williams who died in 1983, were on the program.
This was one of several scripts, written for Elia Kazan, never produced. Starring an outstanding Bryce Dallas Howard with an excellent Ellen
Burstyn, the film features characters reminiscent of the dramatist's
most haunting women, Blanche Dubois of Streetcar, both Amanda and Laura
from Glass Menagerie, women of extraordinary power and dreams with no
access to a world in which to realize them. This fine film illustrates
a larger Williams picture of the South and the decline of its
pretensions and provincial world view.

Scenes from The Rose Tattoo, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, as well as Marlon Brando as Stanley to Vivien Leigh's Blanche punctuated a panel discussion that included Howard, Burstyn, director Jodie Markell, Elaine Stritch, Wallach, and moderated by Charles Isherwood. Ellen Burstyn says of Elaine Stritch in hat and necktie, she's the only actress I know who gets a laugh just sitting down. And so this delightful and poignant evening went.

December 16, 2009

En route to the premiere afterparty in a cab, we were debating: which production number in Nine was best. Kate Hudson in white fringe doing go go (this is the '60's), a boa clad Judi Dench reminiscing about the Follies Bergere, kittenish Penelope Cruz making love to hot pink satin crooning “My Darling, whose afraid to kiss your toes?” Any one would get your vote. Fact is, this movie based on a show, an homage to Fellini's 8 1/2, starring a stunning Daniel Day Lewis as Guido Contini, a world-class filmmaker and liar with a world-class creative block, is so breathtakingly entertaining, to pick is moot.

I went for Marion Cotillard. As the long-suffering wife Luisa, she sings demurely, “My husband rarely comes to bed/ He makes movies instead” and then vamps, “Take it All,” as the movie flits fickle between black & white and color.

December 14, 2009

David Mamet does not so much explore the title topic of his new play as eviscerate it. Despite the brevity, an hour and 47 minutes with intermission, I was exhausted/ exhilarated by his familiar tropes: the rapid-fire dialogue, the non-PC conceits. We are in the era when blacks can do anything whites can do, achieve high office (a la Obama), become a fashion icon (a la Michelle), rule media empires (Oprah), engage in marital improprieties (Woods), and get away with murder (O. J. lingers).

This is the American way: None of these freedoms now surprise anyone, and yet, in preparing a case, when a senior white male lawyer suggests to a junior female in his firm that she, being petite and pretty and black, should model an important piece of evidence, a tell-tale red sequined sheath worn by a black woman alleging rape by a wealthy white client, Mamet's searing vision makes us aware of just how far we go, where we are in our subconscious vs. our language, unrepressed and hanging hideous in the air.

This is also a time when the movie Precious-- the writer, director, and producers all black--raises the haunches of the community for pandering in stereotypes. No matter how well reviewed, how humanistic these characters are deemed, many refuse to see it, suggesting limits in stories where race is an issue, no matter who tells them.

In the words of David Alan Grier's character Henry Brown, “Do you know what a white man can tell a black man about race? Nothing.” Is this playwright speaking about himself?

Here directing his own drama, Mamet-in this well-staged, concise play, his pitch-perfect quartet (the superb ensemble: James Spader, Kerry Washington, and Richard Thomas joining David Alan Grier) illustrates just how skin-deep gestures regarding race remain as we operate in our little verbal fiefdoms.

December 12, 2009

The talent sipping cocktails at Gloria Steinem's brownstone duplex last Tuesday was through the roof. Without emphasizing the evening's feminist thrust, the gathering, to celebrate Bright Star director Jane Campion, evoked the tradition of Gertrude Stein's early 20th century Paris salons: novelists Erica Jong, Meg Wolitzer, Caryn James, and Susannah Moore whose book In the Cut had been filmed by Campion were among the mostly female crowd, as was filmmaker Nancy Savoca, actor Sarah Jones, former news anchor and president of The Women's Media Center Carol Jenkins, Planned Parenthood president Cecile Richards. Jeanne Berney of Apparition, Bright Star's distributor, sponsored. The energy was palpable.

In an interesting twist, men were in the kitchen, and serving the yummy hors d'oeuvres. Is it PC to mention that? Yes, we are still mired in this paradox: we want to be honoring excellent work, fine filmmaking without that nod to gender. Do we say, man director?

The evening's engine was Melissa Silversteinwhose site Women & Hollywood provides industry news. Truth is, Campion remains the only woman director to have won the Palm D'Or at Cannes; Campion is also one of three women directors to have been nominated for Best Director, for The Piano (1993). If nominators are paying attention, Bright Star should be among the ten-along with Kathryn Bigelow's Hurt Locker and Lone Scherfig's An Education--listed for Best Picture Oscars.

And by the way, note such crowd pleasers as Nora Ephron's Julie & Julia and Aviva Kempner's documentary Yoo Hoo, Mrs. Goldberg. Soon to join this group: The upcoming Nancy Myer's romantic comedy, It's Complicated--starring Meryl Streep (you can never say enough about Meryl Streep, wonderful too as Julia Child). Jodie Markell's beautifully rendered feature of a never before made Tennessee Williams screenplay, The Loss of a Teardrop Diamond, is sure to achieve Oscar glory for Ellen Burstyn in a Best Supporting Role.

In case you were wondering, Steinem, worried that she does not actually drive, is working on a “road” book. I chatted with Ann Curry about her travels to Darfur, her Today Show coverage shining NBC's ample light on still the most egregious human rights issue. Simply put, everyone I spoke to in this high-power group is on the move.

December 07, 2009

If you missed Paul Shrader's last film Adam Resurrected, you can find it at the 24th Israel Film Festival, now playing at the SVA Theatre on 23 Street through next weekend. An examination of the period after The Holocaust based upon Yoram Kaniuk's 1971 novel, “Adam Resurrected” with its disturbing depiction of a comic who survived the concentration camps as a Nazi commando's pet dog (Jeff Goldblum in an elastic Gumby defying role to Willem Dafoe's absurdist oppressor), mostly takes place in a post-war mental institution in Israel.

On Saturday night, Paul Shrader was honored with an Achievement in Film Award presented by Jeff Goldblum who praised the director of such gutsy films as Mishima and Auto Focus for being a “champion of strange love between people.” He then explained something about Shrader's direction to the rapt audience. In one emotional scene, Goldblum's character visits the grave of his daughter and in his grief eats the flowers he brought there. Of course the prop people supplied edible blooms. But Shrader wanted to go further and directed Goldblum to eat the earth. So where was the chocolate simulated dirt? Shrader spontaneously showed Goldblum how to scoop up the ground-and he ate it. Accepting his green statue, Shrader urged everyone to see Goldblum's performance. “You won't be disappointed,” he said.

The same can be said for the festival in general, if the opening night film, A Matter of Size directed by Sharon Maymon and Erez Tadmor, is indicative. Let's just say, there's more exposed flesh in this film about four fatsos who want to be suma wrestlers than any I've seen this year--and most of it jiggles.

Don Krim of Kino International, a film distribution company that has represented many Israeli films including those of Amos Gitai over the years was also honored with the 2009 Visionary Award, announcing his company's merger with Koch Lorber. Having attended the Academy Awards when Beaufort was nominated, Krim pointed out the richness of Israeli cinema as he has watched the industry grow.

The third award, for Lifetime Achievement, went to Elliot Gould, presented by Dr. Gabriela Shalev, Israel's UN ambassador, a proper looking diminutive woman who announced that she saw the actor in bed. Of course that movie was Bob Ted Carol and Alice from the year when ménages of all sorts were de rigueur. She also noted his performance in Robert Altman's Mash, “a film that still resonates with us.” Gould noted we are all at war with ignorance, desperation and fear. As Elliot Goldstein from Brooklyn, he wished all a Happy Chanukah filled with joy and light.

December 06, 2009

The real-life tragedy of Adrienne Shelly's murder in a botched apartment robbery hangs over this, her last completed screenplay lovingly made into this sinister romantic comedy produced by her husband Andy Ostroy and directed by her co-star in Waitress, Larry David's television wife, Cheryl Hines. Louise (Meg Ryan), a highpower uberwoman will do anything-yes, anything-to keep her husband, Ian (Timothy Hutton), from leaving her for a younger woman. Believing they belong together no matter what, she duct tapes him to a toilet. And that is just the beginning of the ensuing mayhem, reminiscent of the frightening Funny Games.

Ryan, the reigning queen of romantic comedy in Nora Ephron's Sleepless in Seattle and You've Got Mail, her lines in Rob Reiner's When Harry Met Sally are quotable. Here, as Louise, she loses the sweet edge that made her roles so charismatic in these Meg Ryan classics. Still wily and comedic, she is more cunning-as she was in the recent The Women remake, so you feel less invested in her winning, even as Shelly's script deftly maneuvers your sympathies in favor of marriage.

Though this is Hines' directorial debut, said cinematographer Nancy Schreiber at the screening's after party at Rouge Tomate, she had a vision for how to make the film, and worked like a seasoned pro with the actors. Everyone exulted in the audience's laughter at the humor in Adrienne Shelly's creation, a bittersweet reminder of her loss. The foundation created in her name awarded a director's grant to Christina Beck.

Hines, in a red cocktail dress could not have been friendlier, even after I veered away from Serious Moonlight to ask her about her character Cheryl's breakup and final reconciliation with television husband Larry on Curb Your Enthusiasm.

That romantic view of marriage resonates: “You know, they just belong together,” she said sweetly

December 04, 2009

In case you don't already know, the subject of The Lovely Bones as well as Alice Sebold's best-selling book on which the new movie is based is that most horrendous of nightmares: the murder of a 14-year old. Imagining the challenge of making such an event watch-worthy, even enjoyable, I marvel at the ingenuity of Peter Jackson, the talented director of the Lord of the Rings trilogy and Heavenly Creatures, among other favorites of mine.

As in the novel, Susie Salmon (Saoirse Ronan) speaks from the beyond, micromanaging the affairs of those left mourning her loss. But where exactly is she? In a pastel paradise evoking the paintings of Peter Max. You could say that this colorful imagery is excessive, as if strawberry and lime lollipops could soften the somber tones of hell on earth, what cannot ever be made palatable. As such, these scenes where Jackson attempts to get into Susie's dreams “once she has left her body,” as he told me at the movie's premiere, don't always work.

But no matter, this is a must-see movie, particularly for Stanley Tucci's brilliant performance as Mr. Harvey. Adorable in Julie & Julia and in Devil Wore Prada, here he is a menacing loner, mopping his sweaty brow as he peers through his suburban windowpanes at joyful children. Susan Sarandon is the show-stealing cool, kooky grandma Lynn who gives facials and advice on kissing to the young teens. New Zealand actress Rose Mciver is excellent as Susie's sister Lindsey, as is Michael Imperioli as the cop who cares.

Just back from the London premiere hosted by Prince Charles and Camilla, this cast was joined by a diverse crowd of well-wishers at the Oak Room: Cathy Moriarty, Aiden Quinn, Sylvia Miles, Patricia Clarkson, Steve Buscemi, Bob Balaban. Saoirse Ronan, from a small town in Southern Ireland, told me she got the part of Susie after her father made a video of her reading her lines. You may remember her as the young girl in Atonement-the villain, as I called her. Yes, said Saoirse, “if you have to hate anyone in that movie, that would be me.”

December 01, 2009

Quips comparing the Gotham Awards with the Oscars ran rampant last night, so Academy Awards hovered in the cavernous Cipriani Wall Street air. Mostly, speakers agreed, the Gothams, honoring indie films, are like a younger, cooler brother: acting out, presenters feel free to speak their minds in whatever non-prime time terms. Focusing on Willem Dafoe seated ringside, who would later pay tribute to Hurt Locker director Kathryn Bigelow, Rosie Perez wanted to know whether that was his real ample-“you know”-in the ample sex scenes in Antichrist. After he nodded affirmative with his great Cheshire cat grin, she purred as only Rosie can, “Well hello Willem Dafoe.”

Jim Sheridan, director of her most recent film, Brothers, paid tribute to the be-sequined Natalie Portman, who thanked him for making her, at 26, believable as the mother of an 8 year old by giving her the tits.

The meticulously non-glamourized Meryl Streep led the tribute to her Devil Wore Prada/ Julie & Julia co-star, Stanley Tucci. Noting that if you're not a supporting actor, you are not an actor, she glowed, he more than supported; “I felt buttressed by him,” and further praised his expertise at mixing martinis.

The Coen brothers, thanking Working Title's Tim Bevan and Eric Fellner, recounted their various pitch lines, each funnier and less likely to be made than the one before: The Man Who Wasn't There, in black and white about an unhappily married barber who wants to be a dry cleaner, O Brother, a riff on The Odyssey, and Fargo, about an unhappily married . . . You get the picture. The rest is movie history. But for the current A Serious Man, the Coens made the green light sound iffy. Accepting their award, Bevan and Fellner protested, “We knew it was a hit.”

Not surprising, given the award buzz it has already received, The Hurt Locker was the big winner of the evening, for Best Ensemble and for Best Feature. True, wisdom dictates you don't want to be the front-runner too soon. So, when asked about anticipating Oscars, Kathryn Bigelow demurred, “It's too soon to think about that.”